


Knock you back with something sweet and strong

by gloss



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Light D/s undertones, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M, fern bars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6956200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <cite>Poe used to think there was something wrong with him, with the way he never seemed to get jealous. So he didn't even know what to call <b>this</b> cautious hesitation that was making him hold his breath before Finn, finally, blinking, turned back to him.</cite>
</p><p>
  <cite>"I'm sure," Finn told him.</cite>
</p><p>
  <cite>"Yeah, that's pretty obvious," Poe said and exhaled. "I can get another room, if you want? Want to be alone with him. No problem. None at all."</cite>
</p><hr/><p>Finn and Poe celebrate another day of survival and pick a guy up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock you back with something sweet and strong

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr as [a response](http://spaceoperafeerie.tumblr.com/post/144478169349/18) to coffeeinallcaps' [kiss meme](http://spaceoperafeerie.tumblr.com/post/144458201179/askfic-kiss-meme) request, **18\. A kiss on the forehead**. Now hugely revised and expanded.
> 
> Title from The Replacements, [Valentine](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DqztuPrGQXIo&t=ZGMwZjFiODFhMzY2YmQ2NWU5NzJkNWJlN2UxZDVjNzYyNGMwYTY3OSw5aGZ2WE42ag%3D%3D).

The tattoos on Tremi's face bunch together, drawing up and thickening, as he drives faster into Finn. His mouth is open, both hands clutching Finn's hips, and he grunts, almost barks, every time he hits bottom. For a moment, overwhelmed by everything else, Poe is transfixed by those shifts in the tattoos, how they move like calligraphy over his dusky green skin.

Then Finn moans, lifting his head from where he's had it resting on his folded arms. He looks up, sweat shining like patchwork and sparkling in his hair; his gaze is unfocused, however, his lip caught in his teeth.

His moan redoubles when Tremi hauls his hips higher, changing the angle, speeding his thrusts.

"Hey," Poe says, and slips a little down the bed until he's cupping Finn's cheek. "You okay?"

Finn sucks in a breath and shoves back against Tremi, again and again. "Yeah. _Yeah_."

"Good," Poe says. "Good."

*

They picked Tremi up in one of the most unlikely cantinas Poe had ever seen. It was _clean_ , for one thing, and relatively quiet. There was just the one musician bent over a complicated, multi-tiered keyboard; the music was gentle and tinkling, more like ambient water or wind than a tune. The low light was soft, flattering, not as dim as possible to hide flaws and deceptions, imminent betrayal. Huge pots of buxom ferns crowded out of the corners and swung from the ceiling.

It was, frankly, probably one of the most _grown-up_ places Poe had ever been in without an actual grown-up - Kes or Leia, hell, even L'ulo - leading the way. 

Here he was, holding the door for Finn, smoothing down his (Republic) dress uniform, and trying not to worry at the slight cut on his throat from shaving. If that meant he was now the grown-up, then Poe was seriously going to have to reevaluate his life.

Or maybe not. This was actually great - eating without having to shout or wrestle for second portions. Dancing to quiet music without fending off strange come-ons or sidestepping around sudden knife fights.

At the end of the evening, they stopped in the bar for one last drink. Finn's collar was open, his eyes a little glittery; he's still getting used to drinking, let alone eating more than the most basic protein slurries and battery of supplements. He's still getting used to flavor, and appetite. Despite his damp skin and swaying gait, he insisted he was fine. He even waved Poe off when the big, handsome Mirialan bartender ambled over and placed the order himself. "Evening! How are _you_?"

And he waited for an answer, smiling, because he's Finn.

The bartender hesitated, tattoos hovering over his brow, then smiled back and replied, something about a long night, near closing, what could he get you?

"Bubbling water," Finn said, and pointed at himself. "That's for me, I can't hold much more. Yavin punch for my friend."

He did let Poe pay, however. Finn is charming as all get out, friendly to a fault, but he's also habitually skint.

Poe hasn't had a half-decent Yavin punch since the last time he was home, but this one was much better than decent - smoky _and_ sweet, just the way it should be. He tucked his hip against the bar, arm around Finn's waist. He concentrated on savoring the drink rather than _inhaling_ it.

Finn was chatting with the bartender, leaning forward, elbow on the bar, chin in his hand. His voice was a little loud, but he was _happy_. Relaxed. After the shit mission they'd just barely pulled themselves out of, they needed this. _Finn_ needed this. Poe worked his fingers just under Finn's belt and half-listened, half-daydreamed. He'd eaten too much, drank a little too much, danced not nearly enough, and the sound of Finn's excited chatter, alternating with the bartender's low, much rumblier voice, was making him feel warm and almost heavy.

"What do you think?" Finn asked. He turned, facing Poe, and slung his arm over his shoulders. Just like that, it was them alone, Finn's forehead tipping against Poe's. "Can we? We _should_."

Apparently, Poe had daydreamed right through the pick-up, but Finn assures him later he hadn't missed much. Tremi said, "nice looking pair you make", and Finn laughed and thanked him, then Tremi just happened to mention, again, that it was almost closing time and how it'd be a shame to go home alone. It took Finn a couple more moments to catch on to the significance of that. (When he _did_ , well. Poe can see the startled grin, the way he rocks back just fractionally, eyes scanning his companion, ascertaining sincerity. Checking that no one's fucking with him, then smiling all the more widely, delighted.)

They'd talked about this kind of thing. Usually just the way you'll mention anything when you're horny and think of something that makes you even hornier (you'd look good on your knees or use your teeth or want to watch you fuck someone else). Then, outside bed, once or twice idly (how would that work, though? \- I guess we'd just see? \- yeah, okay, probably).

Resting his cheek against Finn's, Poe checked the bartender out again: he was hot, there was that, and he mixed a mean drink (which was not entirely relevant, but that punch was good and doing things to Poe's head).

"What're you into?" he asked the bartender. 

Tremi laughed then, and scrubbed his palm over his cropped silvery hair. "Nothing too freaky. Nothing to rattle the morals of an upstanding officer and public servant like yourself."

For half a moment, Poe thought he was trying to start shit, then remembered the stupid Republic uniform he was wearing. It was the flimsiest disguise this side of "merc in metal helmet and leather duster". 

"You'd be surprised," he replied and tightened his arm around Finn, holding out his glass with his other hand. "Another one of these, I'd probably be up for anything."

At that, Finn covered the glass with his hand and guided it down to the bar.

"You sure about this?" Poe whispered.

Tremi grinned and set to cleaning up. "Talk it over, lovelies."

Watching Tremi bend over the sink, then lift a huge crate of dishes, Finn smiled slowly. His mouth was tilting up, his eyes tracking the way Tremi's breeches shifted over his legs, how the muscles in his arms twined and bunched. "Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Hey, look at me?" 

Poe used to think there was something wrong with him, with the way he never seemed to get jealous. So he didn't even know what to call this cautious hesitation that was making him hold his breath before Finn, finally, blinking, turned back to him.

"I'm sure," Finn told him.

"Yeah, that's pretty obvious," Poe said and exhaled. "I can get another room, if you want? Want to be alone with him. No problem. None at all."

Baffled, Finn frowned, then grinned for an instant, like he thought Poe was joking. Then he frowned again, reconsidering. He swayed a little, banging his shoulder into Poe's. "No, definitely. Not that. Want you, plus --"

"Me, plus," Poe said, and kissed him, long and lingering, hand on his cheek. Maybe that was a possessive move - if Tremi were even looking - but it felt right. He rocked against Finn, sucking his lip a little longer until Finn moved against him. "Me plus, we can do."

*

When they reach the room, Poe's been expecting that awkward moment (or ten) where they'll all wait for someone else to get things started. So he heads for the refreshments cavity, intending to break the ice with overpriced snacks, maybe another drink.

A soft thud and gasp makes him turn back around: Tremi has Finn pinned against the wall right next to the bed. Finn's shirt is already open, his hands pushed over his head and held there in one of Tremi's huge hands. Tremi's bent over Finn's chest, doing _something_ well enough that Finn's already breathing hard. 

He looks right at Poe: he's _radiant_ , thrilled and so excited. A bolt of warmth shoots right down Poe's chest at the sight. He perches on the edge of the bed, undoing the buttons on the jacket without looking away, shrugging it off and pulling off his undershirt, and all the while, Finn's undulating against the wall, against Tremi. He's starting to make noise. 

Finn's invariably loud, so expressive and enthusiastic, that it's hard, now, for Poe to remember what other people are like, so much quieter. 

It doesn't matter how little experience Finn has, in anything, anywhere, in the bedroom or on the ground; he'll always go for it, driven by hope, full of trust. It might be the most beautiful thing Poe's ever known, at least since his mom.

This guy used to be a fucking _stormtrooper_ , and now here he is, one leg hooked around Tremi's knees, his fingers curling helplessly in Tremi's grip, head thrown back and neck exposed. There's definitely a lesson here, or a message, about liberty and how the political goes right into your marrow, starts with the freedom to your own body. But there's also the literal sight of it, and that's where Poe is stuck. 

He pauses in tugging off his pants, just pushes them far enough down to his knees so he can get his cock out. When he licks his palm, then spits, just to be sure, Finn groans, gaze fastening on him, and Poe grins at him, grabbing his shaft and pumping, spreading his legs. At that point, he might as well lie back, up on one elbow, and really enjoy wherever this show is going.

Tremi's stripped to the waist, and his trousers are open, and he's grinding against Finn's leg as he moves between kissing him and licking all over his chest, chewing at his pecs, sliding his tongue all the way down past Finn's navel. And Finn's _so_ good, keeping his arms up, rocking his hips, still looking at Poe even as he gets more and more dazed.

Thing is, Poe'd probably be content to come right now, watching Tremi trying to taste, maybe dismantle, every single centimeter of Finn. But the bed squeaks when he pulls and thrusts particularly enthusiastically. Tremi glances over his shoulder, one eyebrow going up.

"Like what you see?" He tugs Finn's earlobe in his teeth and grinds, ostentatiously, gorgeously, down.

"You're blocking the best part of the view," Poe says, "but otherwise, yeah."

Tremi's tattoos wink and stretch as he slides behind Finn, lacing the fingers on both their hands together, slotting their legs, too, and walks Finn over to the bed.

"Better?" he asks, and all Poe can see is the traces of spit drying on Finn's chest, the brilliance of his smile, the hard-on in his shorts. Sitting up, he reaches for Finn, and Tremi pulls him away, out of reach, clucking his tongue.

"Yes," Poe says, belatedly, trying not to roll his eyes. "Yes, this is much better. Thank you. Sir. Or, whatever."

Finn-and-Tremi lean nearer again, and now Finn's crawling up Poe, knees and hands bracketing his body, and Tremi's moving him, hands on Finn's waist, and -- it's _stupid_ , the guy is cheesy as hell, but it's hot, too, because Finn's so turned on, and _delighted_. Now he's kissing Poe, humming a little, and doing that awful-wonderful teasing dip of his hips so their cocks are brushing each other

Tremi's breathing is really loud, his face right up against Finn's shoulder, watching, tasting. His weight's mostly on his knees, between Poe's legs, but his presence is undeniable.

"Take care of each other," he says, and slaps Poe's thigh. He stands up, stripping the rest of the way, then settling up against the headboard, hand on his balls, watching. "Make me happy."

"Hey," Finn says, right into Poe's mouth. "How're you doing?"

Poe's arms go around Finn's shoulders, hold him closer. "I'm having a blast. Nothing like _you_ , but still a blast."

Finn ducks his head, hides his face for a moment against Poe's neck. He draws a deep breath, then says, looking up, "I really am, huh?"

"You tell me," Poe says and Finn's smile blazes again. "Thought so."

Tremi clears his throat. Poe glances at him, and shrugs, half-apologetically, entirely insincere about it. They wriggle around - Finn has to stand up for a moment, and his balance is _gone_ , he's swaying like a sapling - but then they're moving back together, Finn kneeling over Poe in the other direction, looking at Tremi, mouth on Poe, and it sounds like Mr. Bossy Guy likes that, likes that _a lot_. 

He's murmuring to Finn, guiding him - like Finn isn't a genius at this, too - and even with his face between Finn's thighs and the slick heat of Finn's mouth on his dick, Poe can hear Tremi jerking himself off, those particular squelchy whispers of skin on skin.

Finn shifts forward then, does _something_ , and Poe is lost. He knows his hips are rolling up, knows that Finn's swallowing him down, suspects that Tremi's the one stroking his balls and hole, but it's all blurring fast, spit running quick and warm. He clutches at Finn's waist, working his mouth around the head of Finn's cock, pulling himself up, dropping down, dragging lips and tongue. There are about a hundred separate things happening, minuscule movements and huge, shuddering clenches, gusty breaths and Tremi's harsh, excited voice. But it's all one thing, one enormous twisting, _running_ sensation, see-sawing between his cock and mouth, FInn's mouth and cock, like a ribbon or a river, speeding up.

Finn drops his pelvis, grinding into Poe's mouth, pulling off Poe's cock and grabbing it with his hand instead.

Tremi says something, Finn moans in response, and Poe swallows as fast as he can, Finn's cock shivering-contracting-pulsing. Finn's head drops against Poe's thigh, his mouth open, teeth along a tendon. His grip on Poe relaxes, for obvious reasons, so as Tremi keeps talking, urging Finn upward, Poe wiggle-rolls free and takes himself back in hand. Tremi hauls Finn up by his shoulders, and Finn sinks right into place, face buried in Tremi's lap. His groans and hums are starting right back up. Tremi palms the back of Finn's skull and locks eyes with Poe.

Maybe they're supposed to be exchanging something, one of those nods men give each other, some wordless recognition, but Poe's not feeling it (he never knew the words, anyway). He's feeling _Finn_ , that's for sure (and not exactly news, either), but this guy's a goofball. A really hot goofball, but still, a goof.

"You want a hand with that?" Tremi smacks his lips. He's got both hands on Finn's head now, holding him still and thrusting fast and clean, almost machine-like.

"I'm good," Poe replies. He slips downward, down, back to where Finn's ass is in the air, knees dipping deep into the bed, and, sweetly, his ankles _crossed_ like a demure youngling's.

Poe unlocks them, running his palms up Finn's calves, then his thighs, spreading him wider. He thinks he hears Finn respond, but he isn't sure, and it doesn't matter, not right now. He drops his face, burying it against Finn's crack. Sweaty and sweet back here, traces of his come and everything else, swirling under Poe's tongue; he sucks at Finn's hole, opens him up, and fucks his own hand for the last, desperate several moments it takes to come, thinking of Finn, tasting him, being (a little ways) in him.

He wipes his hand down his leg and renews his efforts, spreading Finn with both hands now, sweeping the flat of his tongue all the way up, then down, trying to get both balls in his mouth (but the angle makes that impossible) before drawing back to his hole. 

_That_ is Finn, unmistakably moaning now, working against Poe's tongue, working for it, on it, and something changes, Tremi shouts, gets up, but Poe's not seeing anything beyond this sensation, the dark and sweat and taste.

Until:

"I _got_ to fuck this," Tremi says, tugging Poe's head back by the hair. For a wild, swinging moment, Poe has _no idea_ what he means. Finn's confused, too; he's looking back, chin planted on his shoulder, brow furrowed. 

As Tremi digs his fingers into Finn's ass cheek with one hand, he pulls Poe further back with the other, until he's sitting up on his knees.

"Please," Finn says. "Now, _please_.".

"Yeah, yeah, of course --" Poe shuffles back, feels the mattress dip, and struggles not to fall off.

Finn's still looking back at them, his eyes big and bright. When Tremi drags his fingernails across the rise of his ass, then down one thigh, Finn shudders and pushes up against his hand. He drops his head and keeps rolling his hips up and back, up and back. The **V** that his torso makes is carved up with sweat, dipping so far down, the point sharpening, then the arms widening, as his hips rock.

*

The first time he fucked Finn, all the lights were out and they were both shivering so hard their teeth were chattering. They were stuck on an ice-covered exoplanet, one of those that never got a real name, only a probe droid and an entry in the galactic catalogue.

They weren't going to freeze to death or anything. They just had a long time to wait before their signal got heard, and longer than that to wait for extraction.

So they kept themselves busy.

What do you want to do? Finn asked, already breathing hard from kissing, half in Poe's lap, chest bumping against Poe's, breath hot and damp on Poe's face. 

Anything you want, Poe had replied, you got it, and he meant it. Meant it then, sure, of course, but still means it; probably, hopefully, always will.

Finn came after about two minutes, shouted himself hoarse for it, and then again, later, with Poe still inside him, hand on his cock, mouth on his ear. Anything you want, always.

*

And now he's watching Finn get exactly that, ass in the air, his shoulders bowing and widening as he fucks himself backward. The scar bisecting his back nearly glows, he's so sweaty; the muscles in his thighs, splayed out beneath him, bunch and clench.

"You're so beautiful," Poe's telling him, brushing his fingertips through the sweat on Finn's cheek, "you're amazing. You're so amazing --"

Panting, Finn tries to smile, can't, and drops his head again, making his shoulders spread, then flex.

"How --" Tremi grunts, one hand splayed now on the hollow of Finn's back, just over his ass. His thumb is curled into the crack. "How are you not stuffed the fuck up here all the fucking time?"

Poe wants to scowl - he will, probably, later, both on general principle and specifically for Finn's honor - but right now it's _hot_ , because horny logic is terrible logic. He's getting hard again. Finn's moaning, his mouth against Poe's arm, working, sucking. 

"It can be a struggle, that's for sure," he says. He tips up Finn's chin again, runs his index finger around Finn's open, slick mouth. "Hey."

Finn's blinking rapidly, groaning on every thrust now. Tremors run down his back, up his arms, out his throat. He's so _hungry_ for it, tense beyond description, open mouth twisted and eyes screwed shut. But he's also loose as anything, almost flopping, nearly boneless, under Tremi's fuck. He's _taking it_ , taking it all, and that's a strange kind of pride tugging on Poe's dick as he watches, admires, _twitches_.

"Hey," Finn says eventually, looking around, finally finding Poe. "Hey. I'm --"

"Yeah, baby, you are." Poe slides farther down, hand on his dick again, jerking as hard and fast as he can, as Finn throws his head back and almost _howls_ his next moan.

Tremi slaps Finn's hip, one perfect ass cheek, and says, "Come for me --"

Finn's eyes wheel, somehow find Poe, full of secret amusement and bright, dazzling thrill. 

The line his throat makes, his head back like this, is a wild, beautiful thing, running with sweat, pulsing with life. When he shakes, coming, Poe wraps his arm around one of Finn's shoulders to hold on.

*

He shows Tremi out, thanks him warmly but doesn't let him linger. As soon as Finn got what he wanted, Poe's generosity shrank right back to the limits of just them, just the extent of their own skins. Tremi kisses him goodbye, big rough hand on his head, tongue hot and aggressive. Poe finds himself on his toes, patting the guy's arm almost consolingly before he detaches, wishes him a good night, and very deliberately lets the door close and lock. He sets an extra lock on it, washes up perfunctorily, and finally, finally, joins Finn back on the bed.

Finn's splayed out like a Nautolan floating in the surf, all his limbs spread, taking up at least two-thirds of the bed, his face slack and still so glorious.

"You good?" Poe whispers as he pulls the quilt over them.

The reply he gets is happy but not, in any sense, language.

"Good," he says back anyway, waves his hand at the lights and ambi-meters. Then, finally, it's dark and they're alone and they can rest. He presses his mouth against Finn's sticky forehead, intending to kiss him goodnight, but falls asleep like that, stuck fast.


End file.
